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1.-TO TAE NIGHTINGALE.
O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May.
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, bo
Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay,
l As thou from year to year hast sung too late
d For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate,
II.-ON HIS BEING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, a
Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! «
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
be That I to manhood am arrived so near; And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of
4 All is, if I have grace to use it so, e [Heaven; As ever in my great Task-Master's eye. e
III. - WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE
Captain, or colonel, or knight in arms, (seize,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may If deed of honour did thee ever please, [harms.
Guard them, and him within protect from He can requite thee; for he knows the charms
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground: and the repeated air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
IV.-TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.
Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth [green,
Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the
And with those few art eminently seen,
That labour up the hill of heavenly truth;
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, [friends
DAUGHTER to that good earl, once president
Of England's council and her treasury,
Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee,
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
Kill’d with report that old man eloquent.
Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
That all both judge you to relate them true,
VI.—ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON
MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES.
A BOOK was writ of late, callid “ Tetrachordon,"
And woven close, both matter, form, and style; The subject new: it walk'd the town awhile,
Numbering good intellects; now seldom pored on. Cries the stall-reader, Bless us! what a word on
A title page is this! and some in file [MileStand spelling false, while one might walk to
End green. Why is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp? [sleek,
Those rugged names to our like mouths grow That would have made Quintillian stare and
gasp. Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek,
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, When thou taught'st Cambridge, and King
VII. ON THE SAME.
I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
Of owls, and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs:
Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny,
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;
And still revolt when truth would set them free.
License they mean when they cry liberty; For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they rove we see, For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.
VIII.-TO MR H. LAWES, ON THE PUBLISHING
HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measuring song
First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas ears, committing short and long; Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for Envy to look wan:
[wing Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her
To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire,
That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story. Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing
IX.-ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS CATHERINE
THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED DEC. 16, 1646.
WAEN Faith and Love, which parted from thee
never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load [sever. Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth